33. To Each Their Own

Meryl blearily rubbed her face as she shuffled to the kitchen, silently cursing the morning suns for shining so brightly. She stood on her tiptoes, stretching to her maximum height in order to reach a cupboard with a stiff, blind hand. She quickly became confused, however, when her search came up with nothing by empty space.

Meryl's confusion quickly turned to panic, and she began throwing open all the nearby drawers and cabinets. It had to be here somewhere, it just had to be…

In her frantic flurry, Meryl noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Or someone, rather.

"VASH! Where is it?"

The accused gunman threw her a cheshire grin, his legs dangling childishly from his perched position on the counter. "Where's what?" He asked innocently.

"You KNOW what I'm talking about," Meryl actually growled. "GIVE IT TO ME!"

"Not unless you give back what YOU took from ME," Vash said evenly, still smirking.

Meryl began sputtering angrily, uttering animal-like grunts of rage, a vein throbbing dangerously at her temple.

"A fair trade-off, and we'll call it even, hmm?"

She gathered herself together with no small amount of effort. "Deal."

After the switch had been made, the two sat at opposite ends of the table, regarding each other. It was Vash who broke the silence.

"Whew, I'm sure glad you gave it up, Insurance Girl!" He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you were actually going to explode there for a second!"

"I'll admit it was a clever plan, and I apologize for hiding your alcohol. It wasn't my place to do so," Meryl replied coolly, sipping from her mug. "But deprive me of my coffee again, and you'll be the one exploding."

Vash blanched and promptly buried himself in his drink.